Chapter 2: Second Chances and Shaky Promises

From that day on, I got to know Nolan Pierce.

He showed up the next day with a thermos of hot tea and a spare hoodie, saying, "You looked like you could use a friend." I didn’t argue. We started talking, slowly at first, then more openly as the days passed.

Maybe he was worried I’d try to hurt myself again—he added me on Facebook and called me every night for a week. Gradually, I got to know him better.

His messages were never pushy, just checking in—"How was your day? Eat anything good?" It was simple, but it made me feel seen. I started looking forward to his calls.

Turns out, he was a senior at my university, about to graduate and job-hunting, sending out resumes everywhere.

He joked about the endless cycle of interviews and rejection emails, but I could tell he was anxious. He wanted to make something of himself, to prove he could stand on his own.

Even though I tried to end my life, he did save me. I had to repay that favor somehow.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that I owed him—not just for pulling me out of the river, but for reminding me that life was worth fighting for. I wanted to help, even if it was just a small gesture.

So I sent him a job posting for a well-known real estate company. I knew people there, and after seeing his resume—majoring in human resources, vice president of both the student council and the car enthusiasts club, skilled with office software, great grades, lots of interests—I figured he had a good shot.

I emailed my contact at the company, putting in a good word for him. I figured, what’s the point of privilege if you can’t use it to help someone who deserves it?

Sure enough, three days later, Nolan called to say he’d gotten the job and would start in two days.

His voice was so full of excitement, I couldn’t help but smile. He thanked me a dozen times, promising to take me out to dinner to celebrate.

I was really happy for him.

It felt good to be useful again, to do something that mattered for someone else. For the first time in a while, I felt like I was moving forward.

That night, he invited me out to dinner.

We picked a little diner near campus, the kind with sticky menus and bottomless coffee. He showed up in a button-down shirt, looking nervous but hopeful. I wore my favorite black dress, feeling a little more like myself.

Even though we’d only known each other a week, we had a lot in common. I hate cilantro—so does he. I love suspense movies—so does he. I like wearing black—so does he. And so on.

We joked about being twins separated at birth, laughing over shared quirks and pet peeves. The conversation flowed easily, and for a moment, I forgot about all the pain that had brought us together.

I hadn’t even told Mariah, my other best friend, about what happened with Eric. But that night, I told Nolan everything.

It all came pouring out—the betrayal, the heartbreak, the river. He listened without interrupting, just holding my hand across the table. When I finished, he squeezed my fingers and said, "I’m glad you’re still here."

He told me his story too.

He’d had a girlfriend for two years and loved her deeply, even planned to marry her after graduation. But a year ago, he found out she cheated on him—with his most trusted buddy, whose family was better off and already had a car and house.

His voice shook as he talked, eyes fixed on his coffee. I could see the pain etched in his face, the way old wounds never quite heal.

The night he caught them, he saw the woman he loved in his friend’s arms. He was devastated and even thought about ending his own life.

He described that night in detail—the numbness, the anger, the feeling of being utterly alone. It was like looking in a mirror.

But he made it through. He said he’d make a lot of money, buy a car and a house, and make something of himself.

He smiled, a little sheepishly, and said he was determined to prove everyone wrong. I admired his resolve, even as I recognized the pain behind it.

As he spoke, I saw tears in his eyes.

He blinked them away, but I saw. It made me want to reach across the table and hug him, to tell him he wasn’t alone.

I never expected he’d been through something so similar to me.

It felt like fate, or maybe just dumb luck, that we’d found each other at our lowest points. Misery really does love company, but maybe that’s not always a bad thing.

Maybe it’s true that misery loves company. We started talking more and more. Nolan said he wanted to help me forget Eric, and that being with me made him feel happy and relaxed.

He’d text me funny memes, send me links to songs he thought I’d like, invite me to late-night walks around campus. Little by little, he chipped away at the walls I’d built around my heart.

I wanted to get to know him better too. After all, he risked his life to save me that day.

I started looking forward to our conversations, to the way he made me laugh even on the worst days. It felt good to be seen, to be understood.

In the months that followed, we went out often—shopping, eating, watching movies, even taking short trips. With him by my side, my smile slowly returned, and we became close friends who could talk about anything.

We’d drive to the next town just for pie, argue about which superhero movie was best, spend lazy Sundays reading in the park. It was the kind of friendship that sneaks up on you and turns into something more before you even realize it.

I could tell he liked me.

He’d look at me a little too long, find excuses to touch my hand, blush when our knees bumped under the table. It was sweet, and a little scary.

Sure enough, on my birthday, he confessed his feelings.

He showed up with a bouquet of sunflowers—my favorite—and a shy smile. He told me he liked me, really liked me, and wanted to be more than friends. My heart raced, but I hesitated.

I didn’t reject him right away. Instead, I lied, saying my family was actually poor and in debt, so I had to write day and night to earn money. If I dated him, I’d only drag him down.

It was a test, I guess—a way to see if he wanted me for me, not my family’s money. I watched his face, searching for any sign of disappointment.

But he just smiled and said he didn’t care if I was rich or poor—he liked me, and would accept everything about me.

He took my hand and said, "Money comes and goes, but a good person is hard to find." I felt my defenses crumbling.

That night, he held me in his arms, and I didn’t resist.

It was a quiet moment, just the two of us on my apartment balcony, city lights twinkling in the distance. For the first time in a long time, I felt safe.

Even though we hadn’t officially started dating, after I told him I was poor, he started Venmo-ing me money every few days—sometimes a couple hundred, sometimes over a thousand at once.

At first, I tried to refuse, but he insisted, saying he wanted to help. It felt strange, but I told myself it was just his way of showing he cared.

He landed a job in the purchasing department of a real estate company, but as a new graduate, his salary couldn’t be that high. To keep up the act, I accepted his transfers at first, thinking he’d give up eventually.

I rationalized it by telling myself it was temporary, that he’d get bored or frustrated and move on. But he didn’t. If anything, he became even more attentive.

But instead, he became even more devoted.

He’d surprise me with little gifts, take me out to dinner, insist on paying for everything. I started to worry I was taking advantage, but he always brushed it off.

Maybe because of what happened with Eric, I still didn’t agree to date Nolan.

The wounds were still fresh, and I wasn’t sure I could trust anyone again. I told him I needed time, and he respected that.

But then something happened that finally made me take that step.

It was one of those moments you never see coming—the kind that changes everything in an instant.

On the 16th of the month, I arranged to meet Nolan at a bookstore that always puts out new books on the 16th. I go there every month.

It’s my little ritual—wandering the aisles, breathing in the scent of fresh paper, losing myself in stories. I was excited to share it with him.

We agreed that whoever arrived first would wait.

I texted him as I left my apartment, promising to save him a seat by the window. It was raining, so I hurried through the puddles, umbrella tucked under my arm.

But when I got there, I saw a familiar figure outside the bookstore.

He was hunched under the awning, hands shoved in his pockets, looking like he hadn’t slept in days. My heart skipped a beat as I recognized him.

It was Eric.

He looked nothing like the man I’d fallen for—his hair was greasy, his clothes wrinkled, dark circles under his eyes. For a second, I almost felt sorry for him.

After half a year, he looked haggard, his eyes dull, face covered in stubble—nothing like the handsome guy he used to be.

He looked like he’d been through hell. I wondered what had happened to him, but I kept my distance.

As soon as he saw me, he rushed over.

He grabbed my hand, desperation etched on his face. "Autumn, I knew you’d come today. I’ve finally waited for you!" he said, grabbing my hand.

His grip was tight, almost painful. I pulled back, trying to keep my composure.

I kept a straight face. "Wait for me? For what?"

I refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing me rattled. I crossed my arms, waiting for him to speak.

"I... I..." He hesitated.

He glanced around, shifting from foot to foot. I could tell he was nervous, but I wasn’t about to make it easy for him.

I stayed silent, knowing he’d keep talking.

The silence stretched between us, heavy and awkward. Finally, he blurted it out.

"I want to borrow some money," he finally said.

The words hung in the air, absurd and pathetic. I almost laughed.

"Borrow money? With all those women around you, you need to ask me for money?" I sneered.

I couldn’t help it—the bitterness spilled out before I could stop it. The irony was too much.

Eric: "Autumn, it’s my fault! I trusted that witch—she took all my money and used my ID to get a loan online. Now she’s run off and the debt collectors are after me. I have no choice..."

He looked at me, eyes pleading. For a second, I almost felt a flicker of pity, but it vanished as quickly as it came.

I shook my head and laughed. "So you only thought of me after getting conned! Why should I help you? I remember someone said I was just a frog trying to kiss a princess! I’m just a despised frog—I can’t help a beautiful swan!"

I made sure my voice carried, just in case anyone nearby was listening. Let him feel a little humiliation for once.

Eric grabbed my hand. "Autumn, I was wrong! I was blind to fall for that witch. You’re the princess, you’re the princess!"

His words sounded desperate, rehearsed. I pulled my hand away, disgusted.

I pulled my hand away, saying nothing.

I glared at him, daring him to keep going. I refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing me beg.

"How about this, Autumn—if you help me, I’ll agree to get back together, even marry you! Really! Trust me!" Eric said.

I stared at him, incredulous. Did he really think I was that desperate?

I lost it. "What? You agree? Eric, get real—I’m not begging you to take me back! I don’t want anything to do with you! Who do you think you are?"

My voice rose, sharp and clear. A few people glanced our way, but I didn’t care.

"Yes, yes, Autumn, I misspoke. If you help me, anything you say goes! I can’t live without you! If you ignore me, I’ll be killed by the debt collectors!"

He dropped to his knees, clinging to my hand. I felt a flush of embarrassment as people started to stare.

Someone pulled out their phone, filming. I yanked my hand back, mortified.

"Eric, what are you doing? Let go! I have a boyfriend now, let go!"

I tried to pull away, but he held on tight.

He wouldn’t budge, his grip tightening. I started to panic, looking around for help.

"If you don’t help me, I’m not letting go!"

His voice was loud, frantic. I could feel my face burning.

I tried to pull away, but he held on tight.

Just as I was at my wit’s end, someone rushed over and kicked Eric away.

A blur of motion, a shout, and suddenly Eric was sprawled on the sidewalk. I looked up to see Nolan, fists clenched, eyes blazing.

It was Nolan.

He stepped between us, shielding me from Eric. I felt a wave of relief wash over me.

"Autumn, I’m sorry I’m late. Are you okay?" he asked.

His voice was gentle, but I could see the anger simmering beneath the surface. I nodded, grateful for his presence.

I shook my head. "I’m fine."

I tried to smile, but my hands were still shaking.

"Who is this guy? What’s he doing...?" Nolan asked.

He glanced at Eric, sizing him up. I could see the tension in his jaw.

I looked at him. "This is Eric Miller."

I’d told Nolan about Eric, but he’d never seen him before.

As soon as he heard the name, Nolan’s eyes widened in anger.

His whole demeanor changed—shoulders squared, fists tightening. I braced myself for what would come next.

But before he could say more, Eric rushed over and kicked him hard, knocking him to the ground. Nolan fought back, and they started brawling.

It happened so fast—fists flying, curses shouted. People started shouting, some filming, others trying to break it up.

Physically, Eric had the upper hand, and soon had Nolan pinned down.

I tried to pull Eric off, but he shoved me away. My heart pounded as I watched Nolan struggle beneath him.

"You loser, you think you can compete with me for Autumn? If you know what’s good for you, back off—or else!" Eric punched Nolan in the face.

Blood spattered on the pavement. Nolan gritted his teeth, refusing to give in.

"Dream on! Even if you beat me to death, I’ll never give up Autumn!" Nolan roared.

His voice was hoarse, but defiant. I felt a surge of pride—and fear.

"You punk! Let’s see how long you can keep talking tough!"

With that, Eric punched him in the face again and again.

I screamed for them to stop, but it was like shouting into the wind. The crowd pressed closer, phones raised.

"Eric, stop! Or I’ll call the police!" I tried to pull him off, but he was too strong.

My voice cracked with desperation. I fumbled for my phone, dialing 911 with trembling fingers.

"Are you backing off?" Eric demanded.

He glared down at Nolan, breathing hard.

"No! I love Autumn, and I’ll never back down!"

Even with his face covered in blood, Nolan refused to give up. Seeing this, anger surged inside me.

I wanted to scream, to shake them both, to make it all stop. But I was frozen, helpless.

If this kept up, Nolan might really get hurt badly.

I could see the panic in his eyes, the way his body tensed with each blow. I couldn’t let this go on.

Luckily, a police car drove by just then.

Red and blue lights flashed, siren wailing. Relief flooded me.

"Police! Help!" I shouted.

My voice was hoarse, but loud enough to catch their attention. The officers jumped out, rushing toward us.

Hearing that, Eric let go, glared at me, and said, "We’ll see about this!"

He spat on the ground, then took off down a side street, disappearing into the night.

I dropped to my knees beside Nolan, helping him sit up. He wiped the blood from his nose, wincing but smiling.

After that, I agreed to be Nolan’s girlfriend.

It felt like the right thing to do—a reward for his loyalty, his willingness to fight for me. Maybe it was pity, maybe it was gratitude, but I said yes.

That day, even though he was beaten black and blue, he was so happy he spun me around several times, telling everyone on the street I was his girlfriend.

He shouted it to anyone who would listen, his grin wide and goofy. I couldn’t help but laugh, even as tears streamed down my face.

Looking at him, I smiled too.

For the first time in a long time, I felt hope. Maybe things were finally turning around.

After we made it official, Nolan treated me even better, caring for me in every way. Compared to Eric, he was on a whole different level.

He’d bring me soup when I was sick, surprise me with flowers for no reason, write little notes and tuck them into my backpack. It was sweet, almost too good to be true.

Just then, I got good news—my best friend Mariah was finally coming back from overseas.

I’d been counting down the days, texting her every week for updates. When she told me her flight was booked, I nearly cried from happiness.

It had been four years since we’d seen each other. Maybe because of the foreign influence, Mariah now had dyed blonde hair and dressed much more stylishly. With her flawless features, she turned heads everywhere we went.

She looked like she’d stepped out of a fashion magazine—confident, poised, and somehow even more beautiful than I remembered. I felt a little frumpy next to her, but mostly just proud to call her my friend.

Growing up, Mariah was always the prettiest of us, and now she was even more stunning.

She hugged me tight at the airport, spinning me around like we were kids again. For a moment, it felt like nothing had changed.

After picking her up, we went to a restaurant for dinner. I also called Nolan and asked him to bring his family’s car, since I thought it was time to introduce him to my best friend. Even though his family wasn’t wealthy, I hoped he’d make a good impression.

I spent the whole drive coaching him on Mariah’s quirks—her love of bad puns, her obsession with trivia, her tendency to order dessert first. He laughed, promising to be on his best behavior.

Twenty minutes later, Nolan arrived. He was surprised to see Mariah sitting across from me, but I couldn’t blame him—I usually did everything alone, so suddenly having another person there was unexpected.

He recovered quickly, though, flashing his most charming smile. Mariah raised an eyebrow, then grinned back. I breathed a sigh of relief.

Luckily, Mariah was a natural conversationalist. She started reminiscing about our childhood, making both me and Nolan laugh and quickly easing the awkwardness.

She told stories about our misadventures—getting caught sneaking out past curfew, building pillow forts in the living room, the time we tried (and failed) to bake a cake for Zoey’s birthday. Nolan listened, laughing at all the right moments.

Nolan was a gentleman, taking care of both of us while we ate.

He made sure our glasses were never empty, offered Mariah the last slice of pizza, even pulled out her chair when she got up. I could tell he was trying hard to impress.

After dinner, Nolan wanted to pay, but I stopped him. This was Mariah’s first meal back, and I wanted to treat. I also had a special surprise planned.

He protested, but I insisted. I winked at Mariah, who looked curious but didn’t press.

After paying, I snuck into the kitchen.

I handed the chef a box with Mariah’s favorite chocolate cake inside, whispering instructions. He gave me a thumbs-up, and I hurried back to the table.

Moments later, I wheeled out a cake—it was Mariah’s birthday.

The look on her face was priceless—shock, then joy, then tears. I lit the candles and started singing, my voice trembling with emotion.

She was so happy she hugged me and cried. I asked why, and she said that ever since breaking up with her boyfriend two years ago, no one had celebrated her birthday.

She wiped her eyes, laughing through her tears. "You always remember, Autumn. Even when I forget myself."

I hugged her and promised that as long as I was around, we’d celebrate every birthday together.

We made a pact, right there in the middle of the restaurant—no matter where life took us, we’d always find our way back to each other for birthdays. Nolan snapped a picture, capturing the moment forever.

Seeing us, Nolan smiled too.

He squeezed my hand under the table, his eyes shining with pride. For the first time, I felt like we were a real family.

Since I had a manuscript deadline, after dinner I had Nolan take me home first. I couldn’t let Mariah take a cab alone, so I had him take her home safely as well.

He promised to text me when he dropped her off. I watched them drive away, feeling grateful for the people in my life.

In the days that followed, Nolan continued to treat me well. We were like any normal couple—eating, shopping, watching movies. Sometimes I’d invite Mariah along, since she’d just returned from abroad and I didn’t want her to feel lonely. Luckily, Nolan didn’t mind.

He even started including her in our group chats, sending her memes and inside jokes. The three of us became a little trio, just like old times.

With the two of them by my side, I smiled more than ever.

It felt like I’d finally found my way back to happiness. My laughter came easier, my steps lighter. For the first time in a long time, I felt whole.